My Girl
by Kezelle
Summary: What happened between the episodes?


My Girl

What happened between the episodes?

Will stay in canon for now but no promises for later chapters.

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><p>Captain James woke quietly despite the nightmare still flashing behind his eyes. Images of Geraint Smith's broken body pumping blood on the desert floor fresh in his memory after the events of the previous day. Thank God Smurf was going to be alright. Part of him had held his breath during the long hike home after they had finished the preliminary work at the CP. The absence and unknown fate of Smurf and Dawes casting a cloud over the rest of the section.<p>

Major Beck had been waiting for their arrival with the very welcome news that Smurf was in a stable condition and Dawes, although battered and bruised was already on her way back to the FOB. 2 Section seemed to sag with relief. Safe within the FOB they started re-living the events of the CP.

"_How wicked was that? Man?"_

"_Proper mad that was!"_

"_What was Smurf thinking?"_

"_I thought she was dead for sure!" _

"_Our Mol's got balls!"_

"Yes!" He had found himself butting into the macho banter. "It was impressive. Dawes risked her own life for a man who practically painted a bull's-eye on her back."

Stunned silence had met his tirade.

"Where none of you listening before we began this tour. 'It's not about looking after number one, it's about looking after numbers two to twelve in your section.' Sending your medic to Coventry for doing her job left her vulnerable. Luckily for Smurf it looks like she was listening."

He turned on his heel, marching back to his tent, leaving dead silence and shamed faces in his wake.

Inwardly James was giving himself the same harsh berating. He had got off on the wrong foot with Dawes. And it wasn't completely her fault. He resented having an unknown medic attached to his platoon at such short notice and her smart mouth sparked his already short temper.

Her time in Camp Bastian had been rocky, but from the moment she had set foot in the FOB she had been the most professional of his men. Despite the awkward and the tenuous camaraderie she had with her new section, she had alerted him to Smurf's state of mind. Whilst the rest of the platoon had been amped up after the contact outside the FOB, the implications of the attack had not been lost on Dawes. He had misjudged her. And if she had been maimed or killed by that landmine or a sniper, he would never had forgiven himself.

He stared up at the roof of the tent, watching the fabric ripple in the slight wind that gently swirled around the camp. The image of Geraint morphing into Smurf. Then into Dawes. The relief he had felt as she had entered through the gates of the compound tempered by the unexpected flush of anger at the cuts and gazes on her face. The redness of the wounds standing out on her pale, not yet tanned skin.

She had spotted him immediately and even from a distance he saw he minutely brace herself before diverting toward him.

Yes, Molly Dawes had spunk.

And he loved surprising her. She really had been expecting a bollocking, not praise and understanding.

Rubbing his face tiredly he sat up, swinging his legs off the camp bed. He knew from experience that he would get no more rest tonight. A quick glance at his watch revealed disgustingly early time. Pulling on his trousers and boots, he winced at the rub on his blisters. He'd have to get Dawes to look at them again before his next patrol.

He'd go for a walk, stretch his legs before going over to the command station and catching up on the latest reports. Stepping out of his tent he took in a deep breath of the clean fresh air, one of the many things he loved about being on tour. This was his most comfortable base yet, the compound walls more secure than the usual crumbling mud walls full of mouse holes which had been more typical of his last three tours.

Whilst the ANA hadn't been as present on his first two tours, his third tour had involved training the ANP in Courageous Restraint. As a result he was not as hostile as some of his colleagues but neither was he completely trusting of the Afghan National Army. Captain Azizi and Qaseem he perhaps trusted more than most but he knew enough to be wary. Trust took time with him.

The sky was still dark, the first reaches of the sun still at least an hour away, stars bright in the cloudless night. He took a moment to wonder at the beauty of them before setting off in a lap of the compound. The troops on watch, British troops and ANA alike acknowledged him but gave him his space. He passed the showers, the gym, and the mess, past some of the troop tents before looping back. He'd just past the medic's tent when something stopped him.

He stood still, frozen before he heard it again. A muffled whimper coming from the medic's tent. He hesitated a moment before another low cry and sounds of a struggle had him pulling the flap of the tent open and ducking inside, the pistol he nearly always carried out of its holster.

The light was poor, a small lamp giving off enough of a glow to illuminate the lone occupant of the tent.

A quick hiss of her name didn't even register with the sobbing soldier. Taking a step closer, the Captain's heart squeezed in sympathy as he recognized the eyes squeezed shut in terrified sleep. The next low cry trying to escape her throat was enough.

"Dawes!" He whispered again. Dropping to a knee beside her bed. "Wake up."

Still the young woman struggled, trapped in her nightmare. He reached out to shake her shoulder roughly only to rear back as Dawes woke with a violent start, bolting upright. She gasped for breath, eyes wide in shock before tearing at her sleeping bags, hands patting down her body, ripping the covers away.

He watched in confusion before realization dawned.

She was checking she still had her legs.

"_I can't believe I've still got my legs."_ Her breathless reply over the radio had been lost in the sheer relief that she was still alive but now the reality of that close call had revisited her with a vengeance.

She stilled as her hands found and recognized the warm skin of her legs, but her eyes were still wide, lost somewhere else.

"Dawes," He tried again, resting his hands on her shoulders and turning her to face him, trying to get her to focus. "Dawes. Wake up that's it. Do you know where you are?"

It took a moment but recognition came into her eyes as she calmed. Hands raising instinctively to grab his elbows as she forced herself to slow her breathing.

"That's it, Molly. You're safe." Her first name slipped out but neither of them noticed. A long moment passed as she pulled herself together. Blinking herself awake, she released the death grip she discovered she had on her CO's arms with a furious blush and pulled the covers back over her legs.

Clearing his throat, Captain James got back to his feet holding out the bottle of water he had got for himself but decided she needed more.

"Here. Have a drink." He ordered, every instinct yelling at him to leave the tent. However a bigger part of him knew that Dawes had an early patrol in the morning and needed her rest. He couldn't leave until he was sure she was alright.

She gulped down a few mouthfuls impressively fast before offering it back to him. He took a swig of his own before setting it aside.

"Thanks, Sir, Sorry, Sir." She said sheepishly before her eyes shot up to his worriedly. "I didn't shout loud or nothin'?" she asked "I mean…did ya hear me from your digs, sir?"

"No, No. I was out walking and heard you cr… you weren't loud. No one else would have heard you. He assured her, much to her obvious relief.

She let out some long shaky breaths, the adrenaline rush that came with the sudden awakening leaving her body. Her exhaustion starting to make itself known.

"I'm sorry, Sir. Sorry." She repeated but he waved her off.

"Nothing to be sorry about, Dawes. It's alright. It was one hell of a day. Why do you think I'm up?" He clamped his mouth shut abruptly, couldn't believe he had just let that slip. And to a woman he barely knew. It didn't seem to register with the young woman thou.

He relaxed as she carried on speaking.

"It just keeps goin' on an on in my 'ead. I 'ember the feel of that mine on my boot. I'd knew I'd fucked up. That moment. I were sure I woz done for. Then the bang, the ring'in in my ears. I fought my legs were gone. I were sure my legs were gone. What da fuck wer I finking?"

"We were very lucky," Captain James agreed, crouching down in her eye-line. "What you did there was amazing, Dawes. Your performance since we've arrived has been exceptional."

"I were just doing my job, Boss." She blushed, shaking her head.

"Above and beyond." He assured her. "Despite how Smurf and the men have been treating you. Myself included." She looked puzzled for a moment before shaking it off.

"I don't make a good first impression. Got a big gang and mob, me."

"Pardon?" She looked up and let out a small huff of laughter at his confusion.

"Gob, Sir. Mouth."

"Ah" He signed resigned. "I'm going to hear more bloody cockney this trip than I can stand aren't I?"

"Nuf-thing wrong with a bit of chitty,chitty,bang,bang, sir. It'll make ya use yer loaf." She was grinning a bit now. Her big, toothy smile pulling at the sides of her mouth.

He let out a groan as he stood. Shaking his head at her awful pun, even as he desperately tried to decipher her sentence. "God, it's too early for this."

This time it was an honest to God, giggle from the tired Private.

"Go back to sleep, Dawes." He ordered, giving her a quick smile before heading out.

"Night, Sir." She whispered after him, climbing back in her bed.

He ducked out of the tent and went into the night. The smile dropping from his face. He didn't know if Molly would sleep but he was certain he wouldn't. Her grey eyes wide with fear as she patted down her legs another image he would carry with him.

He took a deep breath before continuing to the command post. Maybe he would sleep later.

TBC


End file.
